Ownership [Minnie & Devilla]

[Minnie the Masochist]

This was a bad idea.

The thought recurred, over and over in my head. But my body didn't listen. I didn't heed my own premonitions. And as the line of people snaked forward, I was slowly sucked into this terrible idea. This terrible place. "The Flesh Emporium". The large neon letters shone down on me, bathing me and the night in redness. Beneath the name, it elaborated on the name, as to not confuse it with an organ chop shop. "S&M Club & Cafe".I glance up at it every other second, unable to take my mind off just what exactly it is that I'm doing. Where exactly it is that I'm going.

I feel like a leaf in the wind, quivering with nervousness. I was stupid not to wear more. As always, I think I can overcome the cold, that it's worth it to be able to show a little skin, but I always regret my decision. At least, when I'm outside. I hug myself, shivering. It's cold, I'm nervous, and I'm alone. I'm in a line full of people, heading to a club, but I still feel very lonely. There's nobody with me. There weren't anyone I could have asked, or anyone I would have wanted to ask. I didn't want anybody to find out that I had ever been here, or even thought about being here. It was embarassing. Pathetic. I had to come here, to this shady place, just to get a hint of a taste. Just to smell the sexual power that was at work within. Merely thinking of it made my blood run hotter. I had to get a taste. Just a taste.

I was so absorbed in my own little bubble that I hadn't realized that I was at the front of the line, being spoken to by a broad-shouldered, dark-suited guard. I looked up at him, perplexed. "Subberdom?" He asked, his words blurring together. I strained to make sense of it, but just frowned at him stupidly while my slow mind-wheels tried to work it out. The man sighed, expressing his annoyance. "Are you sexually dominant, or sexually submissive? You look like a scared little mouse. You sure you belong here?" He asked, and I opened my mouth, a protest on my lips, when someone else spoke up for me.

A middle-aged man, lean and hairy, stepped in from behind her. He looked like a fun uncle. Unkempt, head a little bowed, and charming as hell. He was the type of uncle who would let her have a sip of his wine at parties when she was younger. "She's with me, Henry. She's just passing through," he said, and gave me a smart grin and a wink. The guard grimaced, but waved me and my savior inside. Once out of ear-shot, he leaned in close, and whispered. "You owe me, kid. Now don't go getting into trouble, or it'll be my ass," he said, and then strode ahead of me. I wanted to call him back. I didn't want to be alone in here. But before I had made up my mind, he was gone.

I wasn't prepared for what I stumbled into. The place was fashionably decorated, with high ceilings, light colors and straight edges. People were talking, dancing, drinking. And fucking. I could hear it through the crowd. Moans, gasps, and frantic panting. Once in a while a high pitched scream. The air itself seemed alive with sexuality. Everyone oozed of lust and desire, and of power. There were normal people with normal clothes there, but some had outragious costumes. Of leather, or silk, or so little fabric that it wouldn't do it justice to call it an outfit. The room pulsed with an energy I hadn't felt before. I breathed deeply of the thick air, and felt myself become intoxicated by it all.

I didn't stand still. I couldn't. I find myself following a stream, and I hear lewd sounds grow closer. Until I see her. Bound to a leather-clad table. Her face was red, her body sweaty. She grimaced. Men's fingers were inside of her. Another woman was pulling on her breasts. And a multitude of other hands were touching, pinching, slapping, or rubbing at the rest of her body. I freeze when I see her, and them. This was more than a taste. This wasn't the safe end of the pool. This was as deep as it got. This was…

My thoughts are interrupted, as I see someone flying towards the ceiling. No. Hoisted. It was a guy, bound with rope, being pulled further and further upwards. People were cheering him on, and taunting him. I felt my blood run hot. Hadn't I been cold a minute ago? Now I was boiling. This was more than a taste. But it was glorious. It was so very wrong, but it was glorious. I stepped forward a little. I wanted to get closer to the woman on the table. Maybe touch her. Maybe…

Someone groped me from behind. I try to turn, to face the culprit, but my limbs won't move. Someone was holding my arms. "Hey! Let me go!" I shout, and struggle. After a second, my arms are free again. I turn to see, and it's a very tall, very black man, in an equally black suit.

"Sorry, baby dove. Thought you were up for grabs. I mean, you a fine little subby if I ever saw one, and you know the rules," he said, but shrugged, and walked away. I'm left there by myself, visibly trembling. I feel reviled, and abused. But at the same time… I can feel myself getting wet. I can feel myself beginning to leak, I'm so turned on.

I place myself more carefully after that, managing not to get into any more of those encounters. Just looking, observing, and licking my lips, as I drink in all the scenery. It's all so perverted. And so disgusting. And it's what I've been fantasizing about for years.

 

[Devilla-Roche]

It's always good to know the owner of a club like this one. I sit back in the office and look at the bank of monitors watching what is going on in each room. If I find something interesting, I might join the party. As experienced as I am, what I do is sort of a mood thing for me. If I get that feeling deep in my loins, I'll make sure that I am a part of the action.

I take out a cigarette and light it and keep watching. Suddenly, something catches my eyes. A young, blonde lady meandering through the club. I look on at her innocent, wide-eyed way she moves. Obviously, a first timer to this club or any club. Her blonde hair is striking, even though it is up in a wavy bun. Her alabaster skin also catches my eye, as does her black bra under her sheer-white blouse.

I can't say much for her flat chest. Too bad.

The black skirt is modest, hmm. It could be much shorter. Her legs are skinny as is her overall frame given what looks to be average height for a young lady. Her low heels are all wrong, they could be higher. I could teach this girl a few things about how to dress.

I take in a good drag of my cigarette and exhale and sit back. What now catches my attention is her eyes. They change color at every turn. Are they blue or are they green? As she continues to move I see gray, then a sort of reddish color. I'm captivated by her.

I witness her getting groped by a large black man. She fights back and he seems to shrug off the whole event and leaves. I smile. Oh, a feisty one when challenged. Interesting.

My mind is made up.

I get up and place my leather boot squarely on George's neck and push him down to the floor. He's gagged and in chains, just the way I like him. He's the owner of the club and my pet when I come around.

I look down at him and in an innocent tone...
"Georgie my dear. I see a young lady in your club. I want her. And, you are going to help me obtain her for my collection. I'll need her name, phone number, and her email. I don't care how you get it from her, but you will do it understand??"

George quickly says in a muffled tone what sounds like "Yes, Madame."

With an evil smile I answer, "Wonderful. Maybe I'll let you have a snack later. My pussy wants to be eaten out anyway."

Then I let him go to do as I requested of him while I watch the young lady that I am favoring so much right now.

 

[Minnie the Masochist]

My blouse began to grow damp with perspiration. The thin fabric stuck to my slick skin, and the wetness made it more of a see-through than intended. I barely noticed it though. I was so consumed by everything that was happening around me, I was hardly aware of my own self. I felt drunk, or high, even though I hadn't had a single drop, or puff. I was high, I realized, on sex. Just being in this place, near where all these obscene acts were being performed, was enough to make me feel like I was having sex.

I know that I'm very sensitive to surroundings and moods and other people's auras. I get sucked into them, and they make me feel what they're feeling. Pain. Ecstacy. Sadistic pleasure. Overstimulation. All the different and powerful emotions surged into me, infecting me. Making me drip.

I find myself watching a pair of girls who are tied together with rope, their bodies mushed against each other. They were forced to constantly make out, while anyone who wanted to could stick something inside of them. I noted that nobody used their cocks to penetrate with. Probably a rule. The thought of having a rule like that, was arousing in itself. Two women came, carrying hand-held machinery with dildos stuck at the tips. The crowd cheered as they placed themselves on either side of the tied girls, and stuck on inside each of them, turning it on. They began to scream, but if they stopped kissing, someone would immediately spank them from behind. They were forced to scream into each others' mouths, muffling each other with their lips.

It almost made me come, just by watching. I was wishing that I was one of those girls, naked and on display. The thought of giving yourself up like that, to the public, to be used by any and all, was extremely titilating.

I suddenly decide that I've had enough. My brain is overloaded with images and impressions, and I hurry out in the cold. I stand, dripping with sweat, as I wait for the cab. Once I'm in the back seat, on my way home, I covertly begin to touch myself, grinding my palm crudely against the crotch of my skirt, like I was some kind of animal. But I had to get relief, and I had to get it now. Just a little rough attention was all I needed. I came, silently, forcing the orgasm inwards, biting my lip to keep me from moaning. Somehow though, I'm not given any relief. I'm still horny. Oh, so horny.

At home, in the flat my boyfriend and me share, I quickly take a shower. He works nights, so he's not home, thank God. I don't want him asking questions. Asking why I smell like sex, or where I've been. For once I'm glad he's not here. He wouldn't understand these needs. He wouldn't be able to give me any relief either. A sweet guy, sure he was, and he was a comfort to me daily, but he didn't possess what it was that I desire in a sexual partner at the moment.

After the shower, I feel exhausted. Wearing only a puffy bathrobe, I crash on the couch and close my eyes for a few minutes, recovering. When I feel a little better, I go and find my phone, before slumping back down in the couch. I flick through my messages, and decide that I don't feel like replying to any of them. My head is so full of perverted impressions that it's difficult to act like the normal me. From and old habit, I check my email. I frown. An email named "An Invitation" stands out among the spam and the automated service emails. I decide it's probably a scam, or something, but I still open it out of curiosity.

 

[Devilla-Roche]

FROM: madamedevilla@hotmail.com
Tue 9/25/2016 1:47am
TO: landerson@gmail.com
RE: An Invitation

Laura,

You don't know who I am. Have no fear. I am not outlandishly insane, heavens the thought on such an idea. No, I was witness to you being in the "S&M Club & Cafe." Obviously, you could not see me, but alas, I could see you. I suppose you could think of me as some sort of voyeur. Guilty as charged! I watched as you meandered through the club and got to better understand what happens in such a place. Your curiosity piqued, perhaps? Maybe you wondered what it would be be like if you were suspended in the air, or severely tied down with cables and ropes?

Something brought you to the club tonight? What was it? A burning desire to be submissive? To be controlled by another? To deal with the consequences of your actions? To be dominated in every way?

I have an open invitation for you my dear. If you wish to experience what you witnessed at the club, then come to my abode. You never know what may happen there; what I may have to offer to you. Your life could be forever changed - and for the better!

Take a chance as you only live once.

Come to 127 Mulberry Lane later today. Say, 10 am? It's located about five or six miles from the edge of the city. Come dressed in the same outfit that you had on at the club. Try not to be put off. Don't mind the size of the house. Don't mind the tall ivy clad walls and the iron gates. Enjoy the ride up the driveway. It is about three miles from the street to the house.

A black town car will be waiting for you at about 9:15 in the morning. That will give you plenty of time to get through the morning traffic in the city. Don't make the driver wait. I want you to be here on time.

Madame Devilla

 

[Minnie the Masochist]

From the first few letters of the email, my heart jumped into my throat, and stayed there, beating furiously, as I intently read the contents. Someone had seen me. Someone had noticed me there, at the club. The thought was frightening. It chilled me to the bone, but at the same time, I began to cold sweat, nerves gripping my gut in a vice grip. By the end of the letter, I was trembling. I had never told anyone about my dark desires, but this woman, this… Madame Devilla, she spoke directly about this secret of mine. A person I had never met, or even seen, was writing to me like she knew me. Not just knew me, but knew the part of me I didn't tell anyone else. Not even my boyfriend.

It was scary. But more than scary, it was exciting. I felt like I was in a movie. In a dark, sexy plot, of spying and intrigues. And I was the main character. Being invited. I had been chosen. Among everyone that were there that night, she had chosen me. Little, inadequate me. I hadn't even done or said anything. I had felt almost invisible most of the time. But she had taken notice of me. I felt flattered, I couldn't deny that. Even if it was a woman. I mean, I'm not a professed lesbian. But since it was a woman, I was less creeped out by it. I actually felt a surge of confidence. But at the same time, I was panicking.

I put the phone away, and tried to forget, but I couldn't. I went to bed, but I was all shaky. I couldn't sleep. I lay there, nervous, and all I could think about was that email, and the car coming to pick me up in the morning. Eventually I slept a little, but it was a restless sleep. I awoke of my own accord two whole hours before the car was going to come. My boyfriend lay sleeping, having come back when I had fallen asleep. I go and take a shower, washing away the night's nervous sweating. I try to eat something, but I can't stomach a single bite of anything.

I wait, pacing, after I readied my clothes from the night before. The blouse was still a little wet with sweat. But in the email, it had said that I had to wear the same outfit. Would this Devilla notice if I changed it to a clean top? I wasn't inclined to put on the dirty one. But when the time began to near, I put the dirty one on anyway. It smelled a little rank, so she put on some perfume. I readied my face, and my hair, while I was waiting. I wanted to curl my hair, to look nice, since my hair was perpetually flat. But maybe this woman liked it that way. So I just combed it neatly, giving me a smart forelock.

It wasn't until I was already in the car, way on my way, that I began to think about what I was doing. This was crazy. This was another very bad idea. It was even worse than going to that sleazy club. It might be the worst idea I have acted on yet. Take a chance, as you only live once. The words echoed in my head, steering my thoughts in the other direction. It was now or never. I had to take the chance. If not now, then maybe not ever. Maybe no Madame or whatever would ever take genuine interest in me again. I had to do it. I had to see what was on the other side.

The mansion looked like a small palace. I stared up at it, as I stood outside of the huge home. It made me feel tiny and worthless. It made me feel like trash. I clutch my black leather purse, to hold onto something safe. The car drove away behind me. Swallowing, I made my way up the steps, and rung the doorbell. It seemed almost too quaint, I mean, a doorbell for such a house? Wasn't a churchbell more appropriate?

 

[Devilla-Roche]

A very tall maid answered the door. She was brunette, her hair up in a bun and she wore all the items one would expect - a maid's cap, a maid's uniform, and a maid's apron. The dress was black and made out of silk and lace. The skirt flayed outwards and was propped up by layers of a white petticoat (also made from lace). The maid wore black seamed black stockings that showed off her long legs and she was propped up with heels that were in excess of six inches.

Of course the two most noticeable aspects of this maid as not the aforementioned. No, it was the tightly worn ball gag and the wide leather collar that was locked around the maids neck.

Since she could not speak, she bowed to the young blonde lady before her and with the gesture of her right arm invited the girl to come in.

Once inside, the maid, who stood taller than 6'6" with her heels, closed the huge mahogany door and locked it. Once that was done, she gestured with her finger by pointing to the young lady, pointed to herself and then down a long hallway to follow her.

At the first turn, to the left, the maid went into the game room. It was a large room, with a bar at one end and two large leather couches in the middle of the room, along with three easy chairs that were huge. The ceilings were high as they were in the hallway. There were tapestries on the wall along with the heads of various beasts that were killed a long time ago. The coffered ceiling was made from the same dark mahogany as the front door. The floor had an old Persian rug that ran from wall to wall and was deep with hues of red, blue, green, and brown. The pattern was striking.

On the far side of the room was pool table and a card table for playing poker. In addition, the far corner had a chess table replete with the finest cut chess pieces that money could buy.

The maid directed the young lady to one of the three leather couches. She then proceeded to walk up toward the nearest wall, standing tall, and then looked down toward the floor in a permanent bowed position.

The room fell eerily silent.

 

[Minnie the Masochist]

I stand outside waiting for a little bit, each second feeling like an hour, as my nerves and expectations take their toll. I heard the car driving further and further away, and with the fading sound of the engine, I felt increasingly lost, and abandoned, my only means of escape disappearing into the distance. When the door finally opens, I hold my breath. I expect to see this Madame Devilla, whose imagine in my mind was someone powerful and beautiful, but what met me in the doorway was something else entirely.

The maid's outfit startles me, but as I drink in the servant standing in front of me, I feel that same excitement I felt at the club the night before. The ball gag, the stockings, the tremendously high heels, they all contribute to my excitement. When she gestures for me to come inside, I hesitate for a bit, looking over my shoulder. Take a chance, as you only live once. The phrase echoes in my head as I place one foot in front of the other, the immense house swallowing me up. "You, you want me to follow? Oh, uh, okay," I say, her inability to speak, and her general appearance, making me feel exceedingly awkward.

I follow behind her dutifully, my eyes darting everywhere, absorbing everything that I'm seeing. I'm very sensitive to places and the emotions tied them, so I'm immediately struck by a sense of belittling. I'm far from a big person from before, but this huge home, with its high ceiling and extravagant displays, makes me feel even smaller than I am. I stare at everything, but look behind me nervously every other step, afraid that this Madame would come up behind me at any moment. I get the image of her shoving a gag in my mouth from behind, and holding me, like the big guy had done yesterday. But there's nobody behind me, or anyone else, beside me and the forcibly muted maid. I never was any good at being alone, always clinging to those around me, so the fact that it was only the two of us made me feel lonely and scared.

The game room was even more extravagant than the hallways, grizzly trophies lining the walls, and expensive furniture and recreational games placed throughout. Thinking about my tiny apartment in the city, I felt a sense of worthlessness, in comparison to this display of wealth. I follow the next instruction by the maid, and sit myself down. I would look quite like a scared little mouse, as I sat perched on the edge of the seat, hugging my purse against my chest. I see the maid placing herself by the wall, going still and silent. The awkwardness increases, and with the room devoid of any sounds, I grow uncertain. "Y-you have to stand like that, all the way over there? Can't you come and sit with me? I don't like being alone," I say.

 

[Devilla-Roche]

As I stand in one of the five closets in my boudoir, I think about what I want to look like for young Ms. Laura. After a short while I decide not to go to harsh looks-wise, but not to soft either. Leather and latex will be the dominant materials. So, I get to work and put my outfit on.

I then work on my face and do my make up. I can hear that Laura has arrived. I assigned Taylore to greet and let her in. Once my makeup is done, I put my accessories on, which include some spurs added on to my 8" high platform heeled boots. I then look in the mirror....

...and check myself out. Perfect as always. Then I make my way out of my boudoir, out into the corridor and down the stairs.

**************

I see Laura sitting in the game room and she is whining. Oh, how I dislike that trait. Taylore, is perfect as she stands in the correct position. All that training has made her the perfect maid, I must say. I then take out a cigarette light it up and enter the room.

With the aim of startling Laura, I blurt out...
"Is that a fact my dear Laura? I suppose your time in the club last night can attest to that."

I advance toward the girl and smile a sort of evil smile and turn on the charm...in a sultry tone...
"Welcome to my humble abode. I want to thank you for considering my invitation."

I take a long drag of my cigarette, look up at the ceiling and push my hair back sexily and exhale...then turn toward Taylore...
"Taylore, why don't you whip up a pitcher of Bloody Mary's for both Laura and myself. The girl must be parched. I know that I need something to tickle my throat this morning."

Taylore, the French maid, goes into action and presents herself to me and gives me a curtsey and then makes the Bloody Mary's at the bar.

I take a seat at the opposing couch to where Laura sits. I take another drag of my stogie and turn to Laura.

Again in my sultry voice...
"Now my dear, why don't we get started. I don't think introductions are necessary. I know that you are Laura Anderson and you know that I am Madame Devilla. Do you have any questions for me? Come on lets have it."

 

[Minnie the Masochist]

The maid doesn't respond to my question, but only keeps that same, submissive stance by the wall. It's creeping me out. I'm about to go over to her, to try and make some kind of contact, but then the door to the room is flung open. I jump in my seat, my eyes wide as I look at the beautiful, latex-clad woman striding towards me. The direct question takes me by surprise, and I'm too stunned to reply. I just sit there gawking like an idiot, like I had no wits between my ears.

So this was Madame Devilla. She looked a lot like I had expected her to, which was to say, she looked like she belonged in one of my wet dreams, taking care of me like only a fantastical dominatrix could. But she wasn't a a dream, this Madame. She was very much alive. Her skin seemed to glow, and she had a powerful aura, that I was immediately sucked into. The way she walked, the way she talked to the maid, everything about her, it made me excited, like I had been excited at the club. Only, now it felt more personal. I was inside this woman's bubble, and I knew that she had chosen me, of all the other possible girls. It made me feel unique, and desired. It made me feel sexy.

The fact that she knew my name was also rather creepy, but in an intimate, desire-inducing way. As she poses her question, a whole list of questions pops into my head. There was so much to ask, and I wanted to ask it all at once. I hesitate, chewing over my words carefully. It almost seemed too quaint, too… normal, to talk to this Madame. Like words couldn't truly fit this scene, this sexy goddess in front of her. I felt that she was beyond approach, as if she was indeed a wet dream, and not a real girl at all.

I eventually find my words though. "How, I mean, why. Why did you choose me? You look like you have everything. And there were so many pretty, lewd girls at the club with me last night. You could have asked any of them, I'm sure. But you picked me," I say, not sure if this was the right thing to say. I'm still hugging myself, my purse squeezed tightly into my chest as I sit perched on the edge of my seat.

 

[Devilla-Roche]

I take a drag of my cigarette and exhale sexily as I sit on the couch and make sure Laura sees all of my attributes in such a way that I exude a certain amount of domination mixed with a raw sexiness, even a vibe that she is put of by...then I answer her...

"You think I have everything, but collecting comes in many other forms. It can be far beyond mere inanimate objects."

Again, I take another drag of my cigarette....

In my sultry voice....
"Your correct, there were many to lewd girls at the club. Has it crossed your mind that I may have also chosen another to be here in this mansion of mine? Maybe there are two others. Or, three. Maybe I have a harem of girls here besides you my dear."

Taylore arrives with two Bloody Mary's on a silver tray...quietey she serves me and places a marble coaster on the cocktail table between Laura and myself, then she bows in my direction. She then gives Laura a drink, but notices her clutching onto her purse, acting quite frightened, so she places the coaster and the drink on the cocktail table. Taylore knows not to bow to Laura.

"Taylore my sweet, I need an ashtray."

Taylore immediately comes to me and falls to her knees. She cocks back her head and sits there.

I reach out and tap my cigarette and let the long ash fall into her open mouth. Then I take a sip of my drink....

~sippppp!~

"Mmmm! Taylore is quite the mixologist. Laura you really should relax and take a sip of your Bloody Mary."

I put my drink down on the coaster...
"And, why not you? Does it really matter that I chose you among all others at the club?"

I take a long drag of my cigarette and wait for Laura's responses....

 

[Minnie the Masochist]

I stare at you, and your beautiful body, every inch of you seeming completely perfect. Every curve is magnificent, and every tiny movement inspires within me a lust for you, even though I have never before had sexual thoughts for another woman. Even your scent is seductive, and although I quit smoking in my teens, the musky smell, combined with the sheer beauty of your appearance, has me spellbound. I'm almost unable to follow the conversation, my mind so absorbed by you. I let my eyes trail all over you, and drink you in, and as I do, I feel my arousal rising, my cheeks growing hot.

I'm not the biggest drinker, and certainly not of stronger liqour. At your behest, however, I take a sip of the drink, to be polite. It was more than just to be polite though. When you told me to do it, I instinctively wanted to do as you told me, your powerful, dominant aura sucking me in. I only take one sip though, and hold the glass nervously with both hands.

So this servant had a name, at least, if not speaking privileges. Looking at the slave, my eyes grow wide when she readily accepts the Mistress' ashes, letting the gray flakes lie on her tongue, as if she was a walking ashtray. It was wholly disconcerting, and I couldn't help but wonder if this was the fate that awaited me. Would I be eating your ashes later today? The thought made me grimace.

"Uh, well, I don't know. I'm just, I don't know, I just don't have much to show for. I mean… I don't have a body like yours, and there were so many beautiful people at the club. It's just, I don't feel that I'm, well, worthy, ma'am," I say, speaking from the heart. I don't know why, but when I'm inside your dominant bubble, I feel like speaking freely. Like you would find out what I meant anyway, if I had said it any other way. "I've… I've never done this before, I'm afraid. I've only slept with a handful of guys, and never with another woman. And last night, well, it was my first taste of this lifestyle. I have a boyfriend, but he didn't know I went there. He doesn't know that I'm here, either," I say, and grip my glass tighter, thinking about him, getting a decidedly guilty look on my face. I feel that I'm betraying him. I am, really. Somehow I hadn't thought of this as cheating. But it was. "I, uh, I think this might have been a mistake… I mean, you have everything. And he's probably wondering where I am," I say, thinking out loud.

 

[Devilla-Roche]

I get up off the couch...
"Well, my dear I understand. You sound quite conflicted. Let me see you to the door."

We walk to the door together....
"It was nice of you to at least answer the invitation and come here today."

~I gently grab her by the chin and make her look fight up at my face~

"It's too bad there wasn't a connection. I honestly thought you were someone perfectly compatible for me. I get it wrong sometimes. I'm certainly not perfect."

I open the door....
"Goodbye Laura."

I extend to shake her hand...she reciprocates...and then I close the door....

I stare at the door for a second and smile....in a whisper...
"She will be back."

 

[Minnie the Masochist]

I hadn't expected my innocent, dumb comment to have an immediate effect; but it certainly did. It had only been a moment of reluctance, before leaping into the unknown. I'm not sure if I really wanted to leave. As you led me to the door, I felt my fantasy being cut short, being taken from me right when I was getting a first-hand taste of it. When you grab my chin and stare into my eyes, I feel approximately ten years old, those captivating eyes making me feel small and helpless. Your touch, I can feel it on my skin long after you let go of my chin. I'm so stunned by this whole situation though, that I can't find any words, and before I get my lips to work, the door is shut in my face. I stare up at the mansion, fidgeting with my hands, unsure if I'd done the right thing. I contemplated ringing the door bell, and tell you that I'm sorry, that I was wrong, that I didn't know what I was saying.

But I don't ring the door, only stand there, lost in my own thoughts, until I hear the driver calling for me. On the way back, I have a bad feeling in my gut, and I feel guilty for having disappointed you. Over the next couple of days, I can barely think about anything else than you. I still don't tell Mark, my boyfriend, and whatever else we talked about, I'm always distant. I can feel that I am, and I can feel that he observes it in me. My mind is off somewhere else. Imagining what I had given up by expressing my doubts. Thinking it was all my fault. I feel terrible. I feel downright depressed. I'm not able to enjoy dinner, the little of it I get down, and I don't feel any sexual attraction towards my boyfriend. We don't have sex, even though he tried to initiate. At work, the next day, I'm also distant, to the customers and to my co-workers. I know they can tell something is wrong. But I can't tell them. I just let it eat me up from inside.

The day after that, I feel even worse. I wake in the morning, and I find myself extremely aroused, and I'm wet from some dream I couldn't remember. That morning, I decided, that I couldn't let this go on. I had to go back to you. If for nothing else, I would get some sense of conclusion, and maybe I would be able to put it behind me. With no private driver to pick me up, I call for a cab, once Mark is out of the apartment.

I wear the same outfit I wore on the other two days, though now it's all clean. I'm super nervous all the way to your mansion, and I'm not even concerned about the cab bill that turned out much too much. I walk up to the gates, and find them open, so I walk all the way up your driveway, the dark clouds overhead pressing down on me. It's very cold. The wind blows right through my inappropriate outfit, but at the same time, I'm nervous-sweating. It's a very uncomfortable walk. It feels like an hour before I reach the steps of your mansion, though it was more like a handful of minutes. Each step I take, is tinged with a heavy mind. I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe you'll just turn me away again. I wouldn't blame you. I'm worthless, after all. I'm a stupid, worthless little girl, who has no business leeching off your luxury. I don't fit in here. But I crave it. I crave you, and I crave to see what's on the other side of my fantaies; the real side of them. When I ring the doorbell, I can almost feel your touch on my chin again, comforting me with your sureness and warmth, while I shuffle nervously outside the grand doorway.

 

[Devilla-Roche]

Taylore, the maid answers the door....

...and speaks in a very low, yet methodical tone....
"Yes, I remember you from a few days earlier, Laura Anderson. I never forget a face or a name. Come in."

She lets Laura in and then closes the door...
"Wait here in the foyer. I will check with Madame to see if she is receiving any visitors today."

Taylore walks down the hall...her walk is next to perfect as she balances so deftly on the six inch heels that sit below her feet...her waist is fantastically narrow and yet her bosom is so large that even with the maid's dress, curves that outline each breast can be seen from her backside, juggling as she walked...her petticoat swayed in such an alluring fashion, lifting up her dress and revealing to lower reaches of her derriere depending on which foot was pulled back at that moment...

Moments later...

Taylore comes back and says...
"Follow me Ms. Laura."

++++++++++++++++++


Taylore escorts her down the hall to the library....like the game room, the library is replete with details...coffered ceilings, wall to wall shelves with books, mostly old ones...there is a large oak desk on one end and some couches on the other end made of a earth tone leather...Where there are no shelves, there is wainscoting from floor to ceiling...a small bar cart sits at another corner of the room...

Madame Devilla sits behind the oak desk...

"Well, well look who has come back. Take a seat here at my desk."

Lights a new cigarette...Madame inhales, holds it in for a moment and exhales...the blue-gray smoke swirls about...

"Last I recall you concluded that taking my invitation was a mistake and that this boyfriend of yours would be highly upset if he knew where you had been and who you were with."

In a somewhat sarcastic tone...
"I don't believe I give out second invitations." ~pauses to take a second drag of her cigarette~ "So tell me, why should I allow you any of my time? Do you take me for sort of fool my dear?"